I Lost My Leg Saving Him,He Arranged a Blind Date to Get Rid of Me

Three years ago, I lost my leg saving Reginald Gilbert.

He knelt in front of me, eyes rimmed red, and swore:

"Priscilla, I'll marry you. For the rest of my life, let me be your legs."

The first year, he cared for me down to the smallest detail. He cleaned up after me, bathed me, never flinched.

The second year, he still told everyone he met that I was his wife, that my leg would heal in time.

But by the third year, taking care of me had become a weight he couldn't carry.

He worked five jobs a day, and it still wasn't enough to cover my staggering medical bills.